


punch drunk love

by victuri



Category: Love Live! Sunshine!!
Genre: Alcohol, Clubbing, F/F, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Intoxication, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, an intense conversation about consent coming up soon, bartender mari, the yoharuby isn't until later chapters sorry!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-04-29 20:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14480361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victuri/pseuds/victuri
Summary: As the oldest daughter of the Kurosawa clan, Dia has always known she’d need to carry on the family name, so it's really no surprise that her family is trying to set her up. There's just one problem: she's not attracted to men. At all.Enter Mari, stage left.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gamerkitty6274](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gamerkitty6274/gifts).



> i've never seen the movie punch drunk love but i'm still going to steal the title
> 
> anyway this is a gift for gamerkitty6274 who requested some drunk/bartander diamari content, which i am all too happy to provide. maybe a little too happy, because this was only ever supposed to be a one-shot but then... then i got too invested and now i have a buuuuunch of chapters planned out. 
> 
> updates will be sporadic, probably, because i'm a busy university student who's dealing with a lot of anxiety issues and my muse is about as fickle as possible. i'll still try to update as often as possible, but be prepared to wait a little bit between chapters.

As the oldest daughter of the Kurosawa clan, Dia has always known she’d need to carry on the family name. This knowledge was already stressful enough when she was still in high school, when she knew she had to be at the top of the class if she didn’t want to embarrass her parents, but now that she’s in university it’s even worse. Not because it’s harder to do well at school, or balance her classes with her extracurricular activities - no, Dia has always been perfectly adept at performing well under difficult conditions. 

The reason why it’s worse is because her family now insists on finding her a husband. 

Her parents are, thank the gods, not that pushy about it. They’re letting her go at her own pace. But her grandmother… Well, that’s a completely different story altogether. She constantly keeps nagging Dia about finding a husband to give her the great-grandchildren she so desperately wants before she dies. To this Dia always replies that her grandmother isn’t nearly old enough to die - since Dia’s parents married young, and had her in only the second year of marriage - and that she’s still in excellent health, anyway, so she has nothing to worry about. Her protests always fall on deaf ears. 

Not that it matters, anyway, since Dia is fairly certain all that is merely an excuse for her grandmother to set her up with new men every week. She’s enjoying it just a bit too much. 

The man chosen for her this time is a couple years older than her. Chitanda Takahiro, oldest son of a wealthy family of farmers, currently in his final year at Tokyo’s School of Management. In the pictures Dia was shown he looked handsome enough, if not a little bland, and when they’d had a brief conversation over text to set up their date he was perfectly polite. She might have actually enjoyed going on a date with him, if not for one single fact: she’s not actually attracted to men. At all. 

She’s only recently started admitting this to herself, so she hasn’t told her parents or grandmother yet. Ruby knows, but she’s been sworn to secrecy. Though she knows it’s unrealistic, she could just wait to tell her parents until after her grandmother has passed away. They’d be much more understanding about it, and they might not even mind if the next heir to the Kurosawa line turns out to be adopted. 

But, really, these blind dates are getting annoying. This is the third one this month, and they’re barely halfway through. At this point, the only thing that makes this entire situation sort of bearable is her pre-date ritual: getting as tipsy as she can get without being rude at the bar before her date arrives. 

It’s what she’s doing now. She’s already on her third glass, and she still has a good ten minutes left before Chitanda-san is supposed to arrive. Or should she be calling him Takahiro-kun? She ponders this question as she takes a sip of wine, and as a result doesn’t immediately notice when somebody leans on the bar top near her. 

“Which unlucky bastard pissed you off?”

Dia only barely manages to restrain herself from snorting wine out of her nose in surprise. She takes a moment to compose herself before setting the glass down and taking a look at the person who addressed her. 

She’s standing on the other side of the bar, leaning forward inquisitively with her elbows on the bartop. If the fact that she’s not on the customer’s side of the bar didn’t give it away already, the simple white blouse and black slacks she’s wearing, along with a name tag that reads Ohara Mari, make it pretty clear that she’s the bartender. This realization suddenly makes Dia regret not looking closer at the person who kept refilling her glass, because Ohara-san is nothing less than absolutely stunning. 

Of course, as evidenced by her foul mouth just a second ago, she’s also quite rude. 

Dia turns her nose up. “What makes you think I’m angry?” 

Ohara-san smiles, and her nose crinkles a little bit. It should look stupid, but it really doesn’t. “Your face, for one,” she says rather bluntly, “Then there’s the fact that it’s not even six thirty yet and you’re already trying to get wine-drunk. Usually that doesn’t happen until around eight, when abandoned dates come to drink their sorrows away.” 

“What?” Dia demands, feeling inexplicably offended. “A woman can’t enjoy a drink by herself?”

“Not when they’re as pretty as you,” Ohara-san says, casual as anything, “When you’re that beautiful you should always have a flock of suitors around you.”

This wine must be having more effect on her than she’s realized, because Dia feels bold enough to says: “You’re here, aren’t you? It’s not exactly a flock yet, but it’s a start.”

For a moment Ohara-san simply stares, but then she bursts out laughing. Dia feels a strange sense of accomplishment at that, and rewards herself with another sip. “Then, since I’m such a devoted admirer of you, I feel like I should at least know your name.” Ohara-san tilts her head to her side just slightly and twists a strand of hair around her finger. 

Dia considers her for a moment. This, what Ohara-san is doing - it seems suspiciously like flirting. It’s not something Dia should be going along with. She has a date in less than ten minutes. She can’t go around flirting with the bartender now.

Then again, Ohara-san is very pretty… And, since this restaurant is a bit too expensive for a college student living on her own in Tokyo, it’s unlikely she’ll see her ever again. What harm could it do?

“Kurosawa Dia,” Dia says, “You can call me Dia, if you want.” 

“Dia,” Ohara-san says. The way her lips form around the shape of Dia’s name is mesmerizing. “Then, you should call me Mari.”

Dia swallows in an attempt to moisten her suddenly dry throat. “Alright then, Mari… san.” She’d tried to leave the honorific off, but it just felt too embarrassing. Mari seems to have noticed her struggle, because she laughs and tells her not to worry about it. 

Before either of them can say more, Mari is called over to attend to another customer. Dia follows her as she moves around the bar, pouring two fingers of whiskey for a middle-aged man in a suit. Her movements are efficient, and Dia wonders how long she’s been doing this work. She doesn’t seem that much older than Dia, which means it can’t have been that long, but the ease with which she takes orders and makes small talk with her customers makes it seem like she has a lot of experience. 

After Mari finishes helping the man, she returns to the spot where Dia is sitting. “The way I see it, Dia, there are two possible explanations as to why you’re drinking alone. One,” she puts up one finger and waggles it in front of Dia’s face, “You’ve been stood up.” She waits a moment to gauge Dia’s reaction. When Dia merely stares at her impassively she chuckles and says, “I thought not. No person in their right mind would stand you up.

“So that leaves option two!” she puts up another finger, once again moving it around in front of Dia’s face. “You’re going on a blind date.” 

Dia’s eyes widen in surprise. “How did you know?”

“Trade secret,” Mari says, putting one finger against her lips. It gives Dia the perfect excuse to look at them, because, wow, Mari’s lips are great to look at. “Who’s the lucky person?”

Dia waves her hand around vaguely. “The son of some wealthy family my grandmother has some contact with.” She takes another sip of her wine, and finds that her glass is empty. Would it be okay if she got another glass? She’s already starting to feel a little bit tipsy, but one more glass should be okay. 

When she looks at Mari again, she finds that her face is carefully blank. “So, what’s so bad about this guy? You wouldn’t be so upset if there wasn’t something wrong with it.”

“Well, the fact that he’s a man is a pretty big turnoff for me.” It slips out before Dia can stop herself, and she immediately regrets it. She regrets it even more when Mari barks out another laugh and turns around to grab two of the more suspicious looking bottles from the shelves behind her. Before Dia can protest that she doesn’t really drink liquor - as in, the strongest drink she’s ever had was a cocktail with a tiny bit of tequila in it - Mari has taken out a shot glass and filled it with the two liquids to create something strange and green. 

“Here.” She slides it over to Dia. Somehow, even though it’s filled to the brim, none of it spills over the edge. Seeing Dia’s hesitant look, she says, “It’s sweet. You’ll like it.”

Dia twists the glass around with her fingers. “I don’t know. Wouldn’t it be kind of rude if I was drunk during my date? He’s supposed to arrive-” she glances at her watch and blinks “-five minutes ago.”

“Okay, see? He’s already being rude. It’s only fair,” Mari says, “Besides, what kind of bartender would I be if I let a customer pretend to be straight while still practically sober.” 

Well. That does make a strange sort of sense, Dia supposes. After only a short moment of hesitation, she picks up the glass and downs the drink in one go. It is, as Mari promised, nice and sweet, but it burns going down Dia’s throat and causes her eyes to water. She does her best to hide this fact, and is grateful when Mari only laughs a little bit. 

“Now that that’s done, why don’t you tell little ol’ me why you’re in this situation.”

“Are you really qualified to listen to my problems?” Dia asks. She doesn’t feel the effects of the shot quite yet, but since she hasn’t eaten in a few hours it should hit her soon. Talking about delicate emotional issues with a near stranger while she’s intoxicated doesn’t seem like the best idea. 

Mari straightens up and gestures at herself with a thumb, a proud smile on her face. “I’m a bartender. That means I’m basically a therapist, except my advice is actually useful.” 

Somehow, Dia doubts that, but all manner of movies and tv shows seem to prove Mari right, so what the Hell. “Fair enough,” she says, then proceeds to give Mari the quick and dirty rundown of her family history. Not any of the details, of course. She may be willing to spill her life story to a complete stranger, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to be _boring_ about it. 

“So, that’s about it,” she finishes, taking a sip of the wine Mari poured for her some time during her tale. She’s definitely starting to feel the alcohol’s effect now; the world seems to be tilted to one side, and all noise is mixed together into one deafening roar.

“Not to be rude,” Mari says, her voice still crystal among the otherwise cacophonous noise, “but why don’t you just tell your family to fuck off?” 

Dia blinks at her, then shakes her head with a soft chuckle. It turns out to be a horrible idea, because the movement just makes her feel like the world is spinning. She feels Mari’s hand on her shoulder to steady her before she even realizes she’s started tilting to the side. Grateful for the assistance, she reaches up to cover Mari’s hand with her own. Mari’s hand is really soft.

“Thanks,” Mari says, her perfect lips tilted into a smile. It takes Dia a little while to realize Mari was only responding because she said her thought out loud. Mari lets go of Dia’s shoulder, only to twine their fingers together. “Dia. I think you’re really pretty.”

“I think you’re really pretty, too,” Dia responds. Her mind is cloudy, but Mari’s skin against hers keeps her tethered to reality. “And I think you’re really nice. But I still-”

“Kurosawa Dia?” 

Slowly, sluggishly, Dia disentangles her hand from Mari’s and twists around to face the person who just called her name. She recognizes the handsome man she’s supposed to be on this date with, but it takes a while before she can put a name to the face. Once she finally does, she carefully climbs down from the bar stool and pushes her hair over her shoulder. “Hello, Chitanda-san,” she says, hoping her words aren’t slurring too much, “you’re late.”

Chitanda-san bows in apology. Just the thought of moving like that is enough to make Dia feel nauseated. “I’m very sorry, Kurosawa-san. Something came up at work that I couldn’t get out of. I would have called to let you know, but my phone died earlier today.”

Even though he apologized, Dia still feels irritated. “Well, you’re here now, so we should just get to our table. Mari-san,” she says, turning her head to look at the bartender. Mari gives her a meaningful look, but Dia isn’t nearly sober enough to interpret what it means. After a moment of hesitation, she finishes with: “Thank you for keeping me company.”

“Yeah,” Mari responds, an unreadable expression on her face, “it’s no problem.” 

With those as their parting words, Dia links her arms with Chitanda-san’s and lets herself be guided to their table. Almost as soon as they sit down, a waiter comes over to ask them if they want something to drink. Chitanda-san orders a bottle of wine for them before Dia can say that she just wants water. It’s annoying, but at least now it won’t be Dia’s fault if she gets too drunk to hold a proper conversation. 

“I wasn’t aware you had a job,” she says, after their drinks have come, “Where do you work?”

Chitanda-san’s face lights up as he starts talking about his internship at some water-purification company - it’s not very interesting, so Dia doesn’t really listen. She tries to keep him talking, since that way she won’t have to say anything, but it’s not very difficult. Forget contributing to the conversation; she barely gets the chance to ask him questions. 

Before long they’ve finished their food, - crab for Chitanda-san, a Western-style seafood dish the waiter recommended for Dia - Dia has drained over half the bottle of wine by herself, and Chitanda-san _still hasn’t stopped talking_. What is he even talking about now? He can’t still be going on about his job, can he?

They’ve just received the dessert menu when Dia sees a flash of blonde hair from the corner of her eye. She turns to look just in time to catch sight of Mari-san before she leaves through the doors. Without thinking about what she’s doing, she drops her napkin on the table and stands up. 

“Sorry, Chitanda-san, but something’s come up. Please don’t call me again.” 

She ignores Chitanda-san’s dumbfounded look and hurries after Mari, pulling her coat on as she goes. The moment she exits the restaurant, she catches sight of Mari walking down the street, her hair illuminated by the streetlights. She’s changed out of her work clothes and into a tight pair of jeans and a leather jacket. “Wait, Mari-san!” 

Mari turns around at the sound of her voice being called. Her face lights up when she sees Dia approach her at a run. “Dia! I thought you were still on your date?”

Dia comes to a stop before her, leaning with her hands on her knees, as much to catch her breath as to make sure she doesn’t fall over while the world spins around her. “It was boring. I’d much rather be with you.” She tilts her head to smile up at Mari. “We never did get to finish our conversation.”

It might be the streetlight shining from above, or maybe Dia is just seeing things in her intoxicated state, but she could swear Mari’s eyes are sparkling. “If that’s the case, then allow me to make your night a little less boring.” 

Mari extends her hand, and Dia doesn’t hesitate a moment before she takes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, while inserting an extremely obvious hyouka reference: he he i'm the master of subtlety no one will ever notice


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a HOT MINUTE, HUH???? i should probably apologize, because the delay, while in part caused by real world obligations (uni exams, starting a new job, etc etc) was mostly just due to a lack of motivation. at least i managed to finish an outline, so now y'all know how many chapters there are going to be. that also means i know how this all is going down, and... woof. hold on to your hats, gays, because it's gonna be a _ride_.
> 
> and this is unrelated, but have you seen the new [mermaid maru ur](https://schoolido.lu/cards/1635/UR-Kunikida-Hanamaru-Pure/)???????????? i'm swooning, she's perfect

For all that she lives in the heart of Tokyo, Dia has never actually been to a club. She’s been to a couple of bars with a group of friends, but more often than not she’s busy studying or working out. She simply doesn’t have the time. 

Well, that’s what she tells herself, anyway. 

She feels nervous just approaching the club. Even though it’s not that late yet - somewhere around eleven p.m. - there is already a small line of people waiting to get in. Seeing the line of people, she suddenly becomes acutely aware of how overdressed she is. She’s still wearing the dress she was wearing at dinner, which is meant for a fancy restaurant and _not_ for a club. In this sea of glittering tops, tight jeans and short dresses, she sticks out like a sore thumb. 

Mari places a hand on the small of Dia’s back and uses that to steer her past the line of people. “C’mon. We don’t have to stand in line.”

Through the buzzing in her head, the electricity that shoots throughout her body at Mari’s touch, Dia scrambles to gather letters and syllables together into something resembling words. “Why not?” 

“Hmm,” Mari hums thoughtfully, looking up at the sky, “I guess you could say I know the owner.” 

Dia wants to ask her what she means, but then Mari looks down at her with a dazzling smile and any and all coherent words fly from her head. When she tries to say something, all that comes out is a sort of strangled noise. Mari laughs gently at this, and she’s still laughing when they arrive at the door, in front of the bouncer. 

Now that they’re close enough to the people in line, Dia can hear their outraged screams at them cutting in front. Her face burns with mortification. She looks at Mari to see if she’s bothered by it as well, but it almost seems like she doesn’t hear it, for all that she reacts to it.

“Hi, Ohara-san,” the bouncer says. His voice is surprisingly high for how big he is - and he is _big_ , the fabric of his black turtleneck stretched tight around his shoulders. With a glance at Dia he asks, “You on a date?’

Dia’s cheeks burn even hotter at that. She’s about to splutter out a denial when she stops herself - _is_ this a date? Going to a club certainly seems like something most people her age - the ones who don’t have to concern themselves with their family’s reputation - would do on a date. And Mari has clearly shown that she’s interested in her in _that_ way. So maybe it is a date. 

The questions is: if this is a date, does that bother her?

Luckily, she won’t have to face that question just yet, because Mari only gives a noncommittal shrug in response to the bouncers query. “We’re just having a good time. What’s it like inside?”

“Not too busy yet, but it’s still pretty lively,” the bouncer smiles and unhooks the rope separating them from the entrance, “Have fun in there.”

“We will.” Mari pushes gently on Dia’s back to get her to move forward. Ignoring the outraged cries of the crowd behind them, she steps past the bouncer as well. “Thanks, Nakamura.” 

Past the entrance is a dimly lit hallway, just a little too narrow to be comfortable. If Dia strains her ears, she can hear both the muted sound of the music being played inside the club proper, and Nakamura trying to calm down the people pushing to get in. 

She is suddenly filled by this strange feeling of finality. It’s like she’s standing in a gateway, a place of inbetweens; she can either choose to turn back and miss out on whatever this is between her and Mari, or go on and have to face the consequences of whatever she does tonight. It’s the choice between finally embracing this part of herself or continuing to lie to her parents about who she really is. Both are equally terrifying, but the promise of some sort of relief from the pressure she’s felt trying to keep her attraction to women a secret - the promise of some sort of escape, even if it’s only one night - is enticing enough that she doesn’t consider leaving for long. 

Mari’s hand slips from her back, leaving behind a trail of sparks everywhere she touches. Dia can’t keep herself from following that spark when Mari moves further down the hallway, dropping her coat off at the coat check. She leaves Dia’s jean jacket there, too, after Dia spends almost a full minute struggling to get out of it. After that, Mari takes her hand again and pulls her through a door and into the main area of the club.

The dance floor is already crowded with people, pressed against each other in a mass of people that seems to blur together into a single entity. The different colored lights that flicker in and out only serve to reinforce the illusion, casting not the shadow of a single person, but that of a huge mound of bodies, a monstrous entity made up of the bodies of multiple humans. 

Dia doesn’t realize she’d been staring at all the people, frozen, until Mari squeezes her hand so hard it’s almost painful. She leans in close to Dia’s ear and says, “Are you okay? We can leave, if you want. I know some… less overwhelming places we could go.”

It’s a tempting offer. Dia doesn’t feel exactly comfortable here, and she would prefer to go somewhere else. Then again, this entire night is supposed to be about cutting loose and trying things she’s never tried before. The whole thing will be pointless if she runs away. 

Determined to see this through to the end, Dia shakes her head. Mari draws away from her, so Dia turns to look her in the eyes and, screaming so as to be heard over the deafening music, tells her she wants to stay. 

“Okay!” Mari shouts back, beaming, “Let’s go to the bar first!” Though Dia nods her assent, Mari doesn’t seem to see it as she unceremoniously drags her along the edge of the dance floor towards the bar. Once there, she lets go of Dia’s hand to wave down one of the two people tending to bar: a lean woman covered in tattoos, dark hair pulled into a ponytail on the back of her head. 

“Heya, Mari.” She glances at Dia for a second and smiles. “Mari’s… friend. What can I get ya?” 

“Lemon Sour for me, and something sweet for Dia. Nothing too heavy, just enough to loosen her up a bit.” She leans in close to the bartender and says something too soft for Dia to hear. Whatever it was, it makes the bartender laugh as she steps away to make their drinks. 

Dia tugs on the bottom of Mari’s shirt to get her attention. Mari leans in close to her, and Dia asks, “What did you tell her?”

“Just that you’re a little nervous. Don’t worry, she’s not gonna do anything strange to your drink, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

 _Is_ that what she’s worried about? Dia doesn’t know. All she knows is that a strange sort of discomfort unfurled in her stomach when she saw Mari so close to the bartender, which only grew stronger when she made her laugh. She doesn’t know what, exactly, caused that feeling. 

Luckily, she doesn’t have to think about it for much longer. The bartender returns, setting down a tall glass filled with a clear liquid and a brown bottle in front of them. She pops the cap from the bottle with one swift movement of her bottle opener and says, “Lemon Sour for Mari, and a cherry beer for the lady.” 

Mari turns a brilliant smile towards her. The feeling in Dia’s gut grows stronger. “Thanks, Kanan!”

The bartender mimes tipping a hat, then moves on to help another customer. Dia has just enough time to question why they haven’t paid before Mari shoves the beer into her hand. “C’mon,” she shouts, “It won’t loosen you up if you don’t drink any.” 

Dia huffs out a laugh. “Fine,” she says, knowing Mari probably didn’t hear her, and takes a large sip of beer. The taste is surprisingly pleasant, considering she usually doesn’t like beer; it’s sweet, but not too sweet, with just a hint of fruity flavor. Before she knows it, she’s drained the bottle and is following Mari onto the dance floor. There is a pleasant sort of buzz in her head, one that makes her forget her initial hesitancy after only a few seconds of awkwardness. 

She dances with Mari for a time, moving her hips about without any concern for how she looks. At some point Mari pulls her in close and they grind together for a bit before she twirls Dia away, laughing. They take a break after - well, Dia isn’t sure how long it’s been, but it’s certainly been long enough that she’s absolutely parched. Mari orders them another round of drinks. After they’ve finished those, they get back onto the dance floor. And so the cycle continues. 

Dia loses herself dancing. She doesn’t dance only with Mari, but with other women as well. So many that they’re faces start to blur together, and all she knows is that there is a warm body touching her, dancing with her. Sometime during all this Mari appears in front of her, sweaty and smiling and looking so radiant, and Dia pulls her in for a kiss. 

An undetermined amount of time later, she starts to feel tired. She seeks out Mari to tell her she’s going home, but all that accomplishes is Mari laughing and saying… something, before guiding her into a taxi. After a short drive - or maybe a long one? Time stopped making sense a while ago - they arrive at an unfamiliar apartment complex. Mari guides her up the stairs and through the door before depositing her into a twin-sized bed. She makes to leave, but Dia, almost on instinct, catches her by the wrist and pulls.

Mari tumbles onto the bed next to her, laughing. Even though the world is blurry, Mari’s face is perfectly clear. Suppressing her own ecstatic giggles, Dia moves in to kiss her again.

The last thing she remembers is Mari’s lips against hers, and then the world goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so cherry beer, also known as kriek lambic, is this wonderful belgian invention and the only kind of beer i like. if you've never had it you're missing out.
> 
> for those of you concerned about consent... well, i won't spoil anything, but i'll do my best to appropriately discuss the issues with having sex with someone so heavily inebriated who can't give proper consent. it's a serious issue that i won't be taking lightly.
> 
> if anyone is still concerned after that, you can message me on tumblr at [xunikida](https://xunikida.tumblr.com/) and i'll tell you how i plan to resolve it. the last thing i want is for any of my readers to feel uncomfortable, so please don't hesitate to come to me with your concerns
> 
> UPDATE: so because i'm currently working 5 or 6 days a week and won't have much time to write, i thought i should inform ny'all that there's a chance i won't be able to update the next chapter at all? possibly. some real nasty censorship laws ("copyright laws", supposedly, but they're the same shit that had lgbt+ content on youtube being flagged so i'm taking that with a grain of salt) that'll prevent anyone in europe from uploading anything that could be seen as copyright infringement to the internet. so... if that does happen, i just want to say: thanks for sticking with me, everyone. i'mma miss you.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> speaking of it being a hot minute: how's half a year for ya?
> 
> anyway. i'm back. hope to update a little quicker next time but like... no promises. don't expect too much, anyway.

Dia wakes up in an unfamiliar bed with sunlight hitting her square in the face. She spends several seconds blissfully unaware of the events of last night - one, two… And then it hits her, all at once. She doesn’t remember everything, but she has a distinct memory of practically throwing herself at Mari. 

Slowly, Dia lifts the blanket and looks down at herself. She’s... Well, she’s not naked, at least. Then again, she’s not really _dressed_ either. Her dress is gone, but she’s still wearing her underwear. That doesn’t have to mean anything, though. She could have done plenty of indecent things with her underwear still on. 

Something shifts on the bed behind her, and Dia freezes. She tries to convince herself that this all won’t have happened if she closes her eyes and lays very still. Maybe if she can fall asleep again, she’ll wake up later in her own bed and find out this was all a dream. 

Whether the dream is good or bad, she hasn’t quite figured out yet.

She hears a groan and - jup, that’s definitely Mari’s voice. Mari slept in the same bed as her. While she was in her underwear. Fuck. 

There’s more noise; the rustling of sheets as Mari slips out of bed, the soft thudding of her feet on the floor, the sound of a door shutting and, after a moment, a shower running. The sounds grate on Dia’s nerves. Her head is pounding, and every sound feels like a spike being driven into her brain. Her throat feels dry as well, a fact she’s only fully aware of now that she’s stopped panicking for a moment.

Now that she’s alone again, Dia gathers the courage to open her eyes. She’s lying in a double sized bed in an unfamiliar room. The room is slightly larger than her own room, but it’s so cluttered with various objects - at first glance Dia spots a stack of books, various discarded articles of clothing and a couple of vinyl records - that it feels smaller. It’s a mess, and Dia’s fingers twitch with the urge to start tidying up, though the pounding in her head and the fact that she’s in somebody else’s home keep her from actually doing so.

Even though the shower is still running, Dia is as quiet as possible when she slips out of bed. She takes a moment to look around the room properly and finds her dress lying on the floor in a corner of the room, next to a lacy purple bra. Blood rushes to Dia’s cheeks at the sight. Sure, there’s a chance she may have seen Mari completely naked last night, but this is different. For one, she’s sober now, and she’ll remember this. To suddenly be confronted with Mari’s underwear like this…

“Sorry for the mess,” Mari says from behind her. Dia shrieks and whirls around to face her, then immediately looks away. Mari is completely naked, save for a towel wrapped around her. It covers everything that needs to be covered, but leaves a frankly indecent amount of cleavage and thigh exposed for everyone to see. “If I’d known there would be a pretty girl sleeping in my bed, I would have cleaned up.”

“Uh. Um. It’s… it’s fine.” Dia fidgets in place. She doesn’t want to move to get her dress. Even though she’s more clothed than Mari at the moment, the thought of what Mari might have seen of her last night has her feeling uncomfortably exposed. 

Mari passes near her in an effort to get to the closet. Dia watches her, gaze fixed on the droplets of water that still dot the skin around her shoulders. “Oh, yeah,” Mari throws the closet door open, “your dress is somewhere on the floor, but I could lend you some clothes if you want to wear something clean. We’re about the same size, I think.”

“That would be nice,” Dia admits, “thank you.”

Mari pulls various pieces of clothing from the closet, holding some in her arms and crossing the room to place the rest on the bed. “Alright, I’ll just leave it here for you. Take your time.” She goes to leave, and is about to close the bedroom door behind her when she turns around. “Oh, if you want to shower…”

Dia twitches. Being - possibly - naked in somebody else’s bed while she’s blackout drunk is one thing; knowingly being naked in Mari’s home while she’s fully aware of what’s happening is quite another. “N-no, that’s alright.”

With one small smile thrown her way, Mari departs, leaving Dia alone in the room once more. Instinct is telling her to grab the clothes and climb out of the nearest window, but she reminds herself sternly that Kurosawa girls are more dignified than that. 

Then again, they’re supposed to be too dignified for one-night stands as well, so Dia doesn’t really have a leg to stand on anymore. 

“Come on,” Dia whispers to herself, slapping her cheeks hard enough to sting, “You’re not going to run out. You’re better than that.” All she has to do is put on the clothes Mari left her, make some excuse about having somewhere to be, and leave. Easy. 

Or maybe not quite _that_ easy. Dia has spent her entire life being raised to avoid being rude, and sneaking out of somebody’s home when they’ve just offered to let you borrow their clothes is definitely rude. She should at least say goodbye properly before she leaves. 

Moving as fast as the pounding in her head will allow, Dia pulls on Mari’s clothes - a skirt and blouse that actually look rather nice on her. She allows herself one more second of panic before she takes a deep breath, pulls herself together, and opens Mari’s bedroom door. 

She only has to walk through a short hallway before she reaches the combined kitchen and living room, where Mari is busying herself with - something. Dia clears her throat, fully prepared to announce her departure, when Mari turns around to present a glass of water and an aspirin, and the words die in her throat. 

“Here,” Mari says, “this should help with your headache.”

Dia gratefully accepts the offering, swallowing the pill and immediately chasing it with the entire glass of water. Laughing, Mari takes it from her to refill it.

“How did you know I had a headache?” Dia questions. 

“Oh, please,” Mari scoffs, “with the amount you drank? Of course you have a killer hangover.”

A hangover. Dia’s never actually had a hangover before. Though she knows it's stupid, this feels sort of like a special occasion. 

Mari hands her the filled glass back. “Anyway, we should go get breakfast after this. I was going to make you something, but my kitchen is pretty much empty. There’s this really nice cafe just a block or so away that we could go to.”

Dia mulls this over in her head. On the one hand, breakfast does sound nice. On the other, she’s not sure how to feel about… all of _this_. Mari. What happened last night.

“Do you usually do this?” The question slips from her mouth without her consent. She regrets it almost immediately, and hurriedly takes several large gulps of water to avoid saying anything else.

Mari’s nose scrunches up in confusion. “Do what?”

Dia sighs. She had been meaning to ask what exactly they did in that bed together, but she hadn’t meant to be quite so crude about it. Oh, well. No backing out now. “Do you usually take your one night stands out for breakfast afterwards?”

Mari barks out a laugh. “No, not usually. But when I get a girl so drunk she passes out in my bed, I try to take responsibility.”

“You mean…” Dia trails off. It doesn’t _sound_ like they had sex, but then again, she could have passed out afterwards.

The expression on Mari’s face morphs into something unfamiliar. “Do you think we had sex?”

Dia’s cheeks flare up. “I - well. I did practically throw myself at you. Most people would have-”

“What?” Mari’s expression is clearly one of anger now. “Most people would have raped you?”

“I wouldn’t call it that,” Dia mutters, embarrassed for reasons she can’t discern. “I wanted it.”

“Did you?” Mari questions. “You were drunk. You weren’t thinking clearly. You didn’t know what you wanted. Tell me, if it turned out we _did_ have sex, how would you feel about that?”

Well. Losing her virginity while blackout drunk wasn’t exactly how Dia wanted things to happen, but there’s something about Mari that makes her… not really _okay_ with it, but makes it so she doesn’t mind as much.

Mari must see some of what she feels on her face, because she nods. “Exactly. I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

“Okay,” Dia says. A strange mixture of relief and disappointment floods her, and she struggles not to let it show on her face. “Thank you for not - you know.”

“Don’t thank me,” Mari orders. Her face darkens a little. “You shouldn’t have to thank somebody for not raping you.” 

Dia swallows thickly. She honestly hadn’t considered that Mari would take this so seriously. Looking back on it, though, she feels kind of foolish for not realizing. Of course something like that would have been taking advantage of her. It being Mari wouldn’t have made her actions any less horrible. 

“Anyway,” Mari says, right back to being bright and sunny, “I’m hungry. Let’s get something to eat.”

She takes Dia by the hand to lead her to the door, and once again, Dia is helpless to do anything but follow.


End file.
